A Tale of Passion
by xXDragonSlayerXx
Summary: Bringing his fingers to her face, he began to trace her facial features, finally trailing them down her cheek while he lifted his other hand to cup her face.  "What are you doing? This is forbidden, we are not right for one another," she spluttered.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter; that ownership lies with J.K. Rowling.

**A Tale of Passion**

_by xXDragonSlayerXx_

It was late, and the castle looked strange and foreboding. She made her way through the corridors, her entire body shivering with anticipation. She wasn't sure of what was going to happen tonight, but she had a feeling that it was going to be a matter of great importance. She made sure she wasn't seen or heard, Harry's invisibility cloak did not help the latter of her issues but she could be as quiet as a mouse. The person whom she was going to meet was not one that she knew much about. Well, to say that wouldn't be fair, she thought she knew him would be a bit more truthful not to mention accurate. Under the cold exterior of said boy, was a compassionate, young man who had faced much of life's trials and tribulations, with scars that told their own tales. Yes, Draco Malfoy was certainly something.

Making her last turn, she paced three times back and forth across the wall. To an onlooker, she would have seemed frustrated, pacing in front of a wall, but she knew there was more to said wall than what met the eye. Immediately after her last step, a door materialized. Finally, having last thoughts, and questioning what she was about to do, she ran through the events from yesterday.

"Malfoy what do you want from me?" Transfiguration had ended around ten minutes ago, and like the diligent student she was, she stayed after class to make sure she understood everything McGonagall had gone through, asking the occasional question. To say she was nervous would have been an understatement, she was downright terrified, what did Malfoy want from her. Speaking of Malfoy, she thought of what he had done over the past month, he had looked at her in ways that she couldn't even imagine. Whenever she was in the Great Hall eating breakfast, she could feel his cold, grey eyes burning holes into her back. She repeated the question, this time drawling each word out, making sure he didn't miss what she was asking, "Malfoy what do you want?"

"Do you really want to know what I want? Do you mudblood," he sneered. The scowl took away from the beauty that he held. His aristocratic face rearranging itself into something of a grimace when he realized to full extent, what he had done. He had made a rash decision, deciding to talk to her, she was forbidden, like the apple of Eve. He had given away his intentions over the past few weeks, looking at her when he thought no one was looking. Still, he tried to continue his façade, even though he knew he was fooling no one.

All of the sudden, she felt a shock of realization as he spoke those words; she couldn't believe she missed something so blatantly obvious. Imagine that, the smartest witch of her age having missed something that was so obvious, it would have been apparent to the ignorant onlooker. She ignored the offensive word, knowing he was trying to keep up his façade of Hogwart's resident bad boy. Knowing she had made the mistake of asking, she didn't back down, Hermione Granger was a Gryffindor, and there was no better way of proving it. "Yes, I do. So get on with it."

It seemed that Draco wasn't expecting such an answer. His cheeks began to colour immediately. Hermione couldn't help but think that he looked so much better this way, actually noticing that he was feeling an emotion that was more than usual. It was at that moment that she truly looked at him, she had never actually noticed that he was a human, let alone a romantic prospect, all she had known was that he was evil and conniving and was best left alone. She began to analyze his features, and concluded that he could have passed for an angel, the long blond fringes of his hair, gently falling over his gray eyes. His eyes, they were something else entirely, they were a beautiful, steel gray colour and now, rather than the cool indifference and rage that emanated from those eyes was an emotion she could not place. Before she could decipher their meaning, the indifference returned along with his composure. His cheeks returned to their pale colour.

"For you to leave me the hell alone," he drawled. And with that, he began to walk away.

"Don't you dare take another step. You came looking for me. You started the conversation. We all know what you came to say, so say it." To say she was angry wouldn't be enough, she was enraged, how dare he just come up to her, put her into sorts, and leave. It was then that she realized she was panting; her long speech had left her winded. Before she knew what was happening, her vision got cloudy, and her knees gave way. Expecting to feel impact with the ground, she braced herself, but instead felt two hands catch her. She felt his hands around her waist, but before she was able to tell him to take his filthy hands off her, her world blacked out entirely.

Waking up was a horrible ordeal, her head was occupied by a pounding headache as she looked around. She was lying in a bed with white sheets, and after a few seconds; she realized she was in the infirmary. Now why was she here she wondered until the past events came back to her. Malfoy must have brought me here, she realized. Something white caught her eye; a note was lying on the table at the foot of her bed. Malfoy, she thought. Crawling across the bed, she tentatively picked the note up, slowly bringing it to her eyes. It read, "Hermione, meet me in the Room of Requirement tonight at midnight," in an untidy scrawl.

Breaking out of her reverie with renewed confidence, she twisted the doorknob.

The sight that met her was unusual, there was Draco, pacing back and forth, in obvious frustration.

Hearing the door creak open, Draco lifted his head, surprise evident on his face. It looks like he didn't expect her to actually show up. Finally, looking as if he made up his mind, he walked over to her. Bringing his fingers to her face, he began to trace her facial features, finally trailing them down her cheek while he lifted his other hand to cup her face.

"What are you doing? This is forbidden, we are not right for one another," she spluttered.

"I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago. Nothing is stopping us but ourselves, let go of everything else, like I've just done. With you I feel like I can be myself, not the image I have to put up for my father, I can be me."

He spoke these words with such a passion, his pent up frustration finally overtaking his reason. And with that he kissed her, one that incorporated all the frustration, anger and confusion that was riddling his very soul. His tongue was running along her lips, begging entrance. Without consciously making the decision, her mouth opened of its own accord, allowing him to explore every crook of her mouth. That was all it took for them to realize that no matter what stood in their way, they were right, they were perfect, and that was all that mattered, at least for now.

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